


Flowerbed

by Thymesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Multi, Other, POV Third Person, Sex Pollen, Symbionts, Symbiotic Relationship, Tentacle Sex, Xenobotany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: Barriss Offee has escaped captivity after the events of “The Wrong Jedi” and is on the run. Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to her homeworld of Mirial, deep in Separatist space, in order to find and return her to Coruscant.OR:Gratuitous xenobotany and a thin plot excuse for Obi-Wan, Anakin, and a semi-sentient flowering plant to have a three-way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, I’ve changed my AO3 user name again. If anyone is keeping track. This suited my mood going into 2018.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan suggests that he and Anakin split up in their search for Barriss Offee. This does not go quite as Obi-Wan had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Explicit rating is for soon-to-be-forthcoming chapters. Can’t figure out where it’s all going? Read the work tags. ;-)

“No, Anakin.”

“But _Master_ —”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself.” Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh as he adjusted the resolution on his macrobinoculars. “We are here to follow up a lead on Barriss Offee. We are not here to bed the flowers.”

“Why are you always so opposed to having any fun?” Anakin whined. “You know what they say about all work and no play…”

Obi-Wan did not deign to reply. What Anakin seemed to be implying didn’t deserve one. They had a mission to complete, and Anakin knew damn well that the mission took priority over either of their recreational requirements. He continued surveying the urban terrain until his gaze fell upon what appeared to be a cluster of abandoned, empty, but otherwise structurally sound buildings approximately a kilometer distant from their current location.

“How about _after_ we get Barriss?”

“I said no.”

“At least think about it. For me?”

“ _No_ —and you are _not_ , under any circumstances, to attempt to approach the a’moryhn at night. The Mirialans may once have been Human. No longer. They have had millennia to evolve into their current symbiotic relationship. The danger the a’moryhn represent to gene-standard Humans is well described.”

“But they’re not _dangerous_ , exactly…”

“Same difference.” Obi-Wan let the sigh escape from his lungs. What he was going to say next would sting, but he was fast running out of patience. “Is not having a Padawan of your own anymore causing you to regress back into boyhood? Focus on the task at hand, Anakin.”

Sure enough, Anakin flinched at the mention of Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan felt a brief stab of sympathetic guilt, but his words had finally had their desired effect. Anakin cast one last, lingering glance in the direction of what remained of the planetary capital’s formerly idyllic municipal garden. He’d still be pouting, of course, when he thought Obi-Wan wasn’t looking, but Obi-Wan chose to ignore it.

“We have only those outbuildings over there and the surrounding grounds left to search before we’ve cleared the abandoned portions of city,” Obi-Wan reminded him, all business. “It will be better if we split up. You take the outbuildings; I will take the grounds.”

“I thought you said not to approach the a’moryhn at nigh—”

“Maintain comlink silence unless there is an emergency, or you have successfully apprehended Barriss Offee,” Obi-Wan concluded, pretending he had not heard Anakin’s interruption. “Do you have any further questions?”

Anakin didn’t. No surprises there.

“Good. May the Force be with you.”

***

After a series of destructive air and ground battles between Separatist and Republic forces, the Republic had taken the capital…what was left of it, anyway. The once beautiful, prosperous metropolis was hardly better than a burnt out shell now, abandoned and empty of Mirialan inhabitants.

Theoretically, that should have made it easy to locate fugitive former Jedi apprentices, even ones attempting to cut themselves off from the Force.

Theoretically.

In reality, Obi-Wan and Anakin had had no choice but to hunt down Barriss the old-fashioned way: neighborhood by neighborhood, door to door. The native a’moryhn plants were semi-sentient and exquisitely Force-sensitive—and their symbiotic relationship with the Mirialans meant that virtually every household of any means had one growing somewhere nearby. And don’t get Obi-Wan started on the ample public provision. The a’moryhn blazed brighter than plasma torches in the Force and made it hard for Jedi to find lone fugitives who didn’t want to be found. It was like trying to see a firemoth fluttering behind a bonfire.

In other words, Barriss could be hiding literally anywhere, and they wouldn’t know she was there until they had direct line of sight visual identification. Master Yoda had explained to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine that, even if clone intelligence was correct and Barriss had made planetfall on Mirial less than a standard week ago, their efforts in this regard were likely to be futile. The Chancellor had ordered them to Mirial anyway: Barriss Offee was an embarrassment, threatening the moral legitimacy of both the Republic and the Jedi Order. She must not, the Chancellor had insisted, be allowed to remain free.

So, here he was, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Master on the Jedi High Council, reduced to looking for a fugitive under every bush. Happily, he was almost finished with the bushes. And it wouldn’t bother him at all if it weren’t bothering Anakin so much, and whenever Anakin was bothered, Obi-Wan was always—

There was a rustling sound behind him. Obi-Wan spun on his heel in the direction of the noise, lightsaber already ignited and held in a defensive position in front of him.

Oh. Obi-Wan relaxed. It was just yet another a’moryhn. The plant’s flowers were night-blooming, and now that dusk had fallen, this particular a’moryhn was in full bloom.

Come to think of it, it was…

“Remarkable,” he murmured to himself.

 _Magnificent_.

In daytime, Obi-Wan had paid the ubiquitous plants little attention. They were just another part of the scenery, big but dull, interesting only inasmuch as they made his and Anakin’s job exponentially more difficult.

But in nighttime—! The single blossom was low to the ground and the size of a luxury airspeeder, and its petals shimmered with electric blue, magenta, and violet bioluminescence. When the wind shifted, strong enough to blow Obi-Wan’s hood from his head, he could smell its fragrance.

Idly, he extinguished his lightsaber and returned it to his utility belt.

The fragrance was almost indescribable, like a memory he couldn’t quite place. He was reminded of afternoon meditation with Master Qui-Gon in the Temple Gardens, sweet shuura fruit ripened on the vine and shared with Satine on Mandalore, and the sleepy scent of Anakin’s hair back when Obi-Wan used to awaken with the youngling curled up against him in the bed of his tower chamber. Anakin used to have such terrible nightmares…

Yes, the flower’s fragrance reminded him of Anakin, the suns and sand of his desert origins, the old leather of his favorite black tabards, the clean sweat dripping down his forehead after strenuous lightsaber practice. Obi-Wan could almost taste the intoxicating salt musk of it on his tongue—

“Master?”

Was that Anakin’s voice?

“Master, come and join me.”

Anakin was _inside_ the flower. The idiot! How had he got himself there?! He’d _told_ Anakin that they were not here to bed the flowers; Anakin was supposed to be clearing the remaining outbuildings, not fooling around!

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and huffed out his exasperation. He did it again. The scent of the a’moryhn flower was strong because he was standing directly in front of it now, and he couldn’t quite remember approaching. Never mind; that wasn’t important. Only Anakin was. He reached out. His hand brushed one of the petals. It was as soft as shimmersilk and ever so slightly warm, and its colors pulsed and deepened in response to his touch.

The petals parted for Obi-Wan like double doors. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan stepped through them.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin brings the mission on Mirial to a swift conclusion. But where has Obi-Wan gotten himself to in the meantime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the chapter that starts earning that Explicit rating and all those Additional Tags. You have been warned!
> 
> (Why is this story set on Mirial, you ask? Because the people have green skin, and _that_ means they have green thumbs. No. Seriously.)

She wasn’t even bothering to hide when he found her. Unfortunately, she also wasn’t Barriss.

Anakin was almost willing to concede that the mistaken identity was understandable. She was young, like Barriss, and she had Barriss’s wide blue eyes and sallow, yellow-green complexion. She even had a similar pattern of Mirialan facial tattoos. Beneath the voluminous black robes, though, she wasn’t athletically slender; she was rail-thin and starving. And when Anakin had burst into the hovel she’d managed to construct in the remains of one of the outbuildings, she’d been curled up in a fetal position, too sick to sleep, beside the embers of a trash fire…and she’d just looked at him.

Just.

Looked.

He looked right back at her and saw someone utterly defeated. Waiting to die. Wanting Anakin to be the one to administer the killing blow.

Anakin was having precisely none of it. He’d commed GAR Search & Rescue and called in an immediate airlift evacuation. She would be given shelter and warm food. Normally, they would also attempt to reunite her with her family, but with the help of a local translator it was quickly established that they had all perished during the aerial bombardments.

So, Barriss was still at large somewhere in the galaxy, and the mission to Mirial was just another dead end. And in the end, the young Mirialan they had found was just another war orphan. When a single one was already too many to be borne.

The situation nearly broke Anakin’s heart. What manner of imbecile would want to bring offspring into the galaxy during wartime? What hope would there be for their future?

“I’m starting to think ‘clone intelligence’ is a contradiction in terms, Rex,” he grumbled into his wrist comlink.

“When can we expect you back star-side, General?” Rex asked, clearly pretending he hadn’t heard Anakin impugning his brothers’ cognitive capacities. Sometimes, as Obi-Wan liked to say, diplomacy really was the better part of valor.

Ah yes, and speaking of Obi-Wan—

“Just as soon as I collect General Kenobi,” Anakin replied.

“Very good, sir. We’ll keep a pot of caf warm for you. Over and out.”

Anakin switched over his comlink’s broadcasting channel to the planetary surface narrow band. “Master, you there? We’re clear to blow this shithole. It was all one big bantha chase…”

There was no reply. He checked to see if the comm channel was open. Yep, it definitely was.

“Umm, Master?” he tried again.

Nothing. Not a damn thing. How strange. Except…

“Master?”

Static. And behind it, a moan and…was that squelching?!

“Master?!”

“Anakin…I-I…ooohhh…I need…h-help me…”

Anakin started running. “Where are you?!” he shouted into his comlink.

Another inarticulate moan, but no words that Anakin could comprehend. He let fly a string of Huttese obscenities as he sliced into his comlink’s positioning monitor and reversed the signal so that it would display _Obi-Wan’s_ position instead of Anakin’s own. It was the least artful coding work he’d done in a long time, but it would have to do…and…wait, what the actual fuck?! Obi-Wan was in the municipal garden?!

“ ‘No, Anakin, we are not here to bed the flowers. Focus on the task at hand, Anakin. You are _not_ , under any circumstances, to attempt to approach the a’moryhn at night’,” he muttered under his breath, mimicking Obi-Wan’s clipped, Core accent and—as Anakin tended to interpret it in his less charitable moments—condescending, holier-than-thou tone.

The ground was strewn with rubble and pockmarked with the occasional short-range missile crater. Anakin cleared them all with Force-assisted leaps. He was in the garden now, and the comlink was telling him that Obi-Wan was less than one-hundred meters directly ahead, and the only thing less than one-hundred meters directly ahead of Anakin was a giant, glowing a’moryhn flower.

Anakin came skidding to a halt. The a’moryhn’s petals were closed tight already. It had found its pollinator, obviously, and had enticed him inside for the night. And although in the Force Anakin could perceive only the a’moryhn, he knew that pollinator in question must be Obi-Wan. Droids and electronic devices such as comlinks, at least, didn’t usually lie. Not like living beings. Not like hypocritical Jedi Masters.

“Dammit, Master!” Anakin felt torn between frustration and, well, _envy_. The a’moryhn enticed potential pollinators onto their flowers with a potent, airborne, hallucinogenic aphrodisiac, trading a night of erotic pleasure between its petals for the ambulatory being’s services as a pollinator. For the native Mirialans, who had co-evolved alongside the a’moryhn, spending time inside the flowers was suitable for any intimate occasion, from the most solemn consummation of statutory life-mate bonds to a casual solo session for the lonely-hearted. The flowers were used for pleasure enhancement, in short. However, on gene-standard Humans such as Anakin and Obi-Wan, the effect was potent enough to be overwhelming and, at worst, permanently damaging.

Hence Obi-Wan’s exhortations not to approach the a’moryhn.

Anakin wasn’t worried about being damaged, though. He figured he’d be okay. Besides, it sure had sounded like a hell of a lot of fun when he’d read about it for the first time in a xenobotany textbook as a twelve-year-old who didn’t quite know what to make of his surging hormones yet.

So how come Obi-Wan “I’m allergic to fun, aaaahchoo!” Kenobi got to play inside of an a’moryhn? It wasn’t _fair_!

“I don’t suppose you’d let me in too?” Anakin asked the flower rhetorically. Or maybe he could find another one somewhere that was in full bloom. That wouldn’t be easy; the a’moryhn blossomed only rarely—the flowers were, understandably, very energetically expensive for each plant to produce. Still, Obi-Wan wasn’t around to tell him “no” anymore—

The a’moryhn’s petals parted.

Huh.

Anakin’s mouth dropped open in shock, but he didn’t hesitate. That was an invitation if ever he’d seen one! Without further ado, he climbed aboard.

The petals closed again behind him, but he hardly noticed. Instead, he was focused on what was inside, and by the a’moryhn’s eerie, bioluminescent light, that was…a sight to behold.

Obi-Wan, sprawled out in the middle of the flower, on his back, naked, and already covered in sweat and streaks of silvery pollen. Where had his clothing gone…? And his lightsaber…?!

All six of the a’moryhn’s meter-long stamens, each one as thick as Anakin’s wrist, were busily giving Obi-Wan their full attention. One was wrapped around his wrists, keeping his arms pinned above his head, and two more held his ankles, spreading his legs wide. There was a fourth stamen crammed into Obi-Wan’s mouth, effectively gagging him, and a fifth was positioned suggestively behind his scrotum, poking him between his buttocks. The sixth and final stamen was stroking itself lovingly against Obi-Wan’s very, _very_ erect penis.

The air was heavy with the scent of sex. Anakin shuddered as urgent heat began to pool in his groin. The aphrodisiac must already be having an effect…

Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s back arched. He was coming, his semen spilling in long, thick pulses, and he was shrieking something unintelligible over and over and over again through the stamen that gagged him. His eyes were squeezed shut; tears trickled out from their corners.

With a jolt, Anakin realized what Obi-Wan was yelling:

_It was his name._

“Anakin…I-I n-need y-you…Anakin…Ana…kin…h-help meeeee… _Anakin_ …!”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin, inside the flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand now the sex _really_ begins. Do let me know what you think! :-D

His mind was a fog of ecstasy and torment, colored in vibrant shades of blue, magenta, and violet.

He was being absolutely, thoroughly ravished, and he’d never been _ravished_ before.

It smelled like Anakin. The voice which echoed between his ears sounded like Anakin. When Obi-Wan closed his eyes, he could even believe that it _felt_ like Anakin—that Anakin’s strong prosthetic arm was pinning his wrists above his head, that Anakin was rubbing his warm, thick erection against Obi-Wan’s belly, that his slick glans was teasing Obi-Wan with the promise of penetration, that he _was_ already penetrating Obi-Wan’s mouth, stretching his lips wide, shoved halfway down his throat…and oh! Oh! He tasted so, so sweet! Sweeter than the finest Chandrilan honeycake. Delicious.

But it wasn’t Anakin. Some tiny, discordant, protesting corner of Obi-Wan’s consciousness understood that it was not. Anakin was purposeful and single-minded, true—Obi-Wan liked to say “stubborn” in weak, less charitable moments—but he was all fire and passion concealing profound insecurity. Anakin overcompensated. This… _thing_ …that his senses told him was Anakin did not overcompensate. It didn’t undercompensate either. It simply existed, and it was too cool, too at one with itself and its actions, too in sync with the seasons, with life and with death, too…rooted. It knew its purpose, and it rejoiced in their mutual fulfillment of it.

And at this very moment that purpose was Obi-Wan and his pleasure.

Obi-Wan had no objections.

He moaned around the appendage stuffed into his mouth and surrendered once more fully to the fantasy. It was only right, he decided, only what was meant between them. This was all perfectly natural, as natural as the exquisite tension building low in his belly, making his muscles tense and his scrotum tighten until it released, star-bright and heart-stopping and intense. His body seized and began to ejaculate for what had to be the third or fourth time tonight, and before the climax was even over, the pleasure was building all over again.

Another ascent. Gorgeous ecstasy. Yes.

And intolerable agony. He felt like his chest or his brain would explode. He wanted it to stop; he never wanted it to end; and distantly, he realized he was begging Anakin for mercy, for salvation, for release.

“Master?” Anakin’s beloved voice, husky with desire.

“Anakin…I-I…need…A-anakin, please…release…” He didn’t even really know what he was saying. All he knew was that it was becoming too strong, too dangerous, and he needed to escape, to be freed, ah, no, one final climb and exhilarating tumble into sexual release—

He thought he heard the incongruent snap-hiss of a drawn lightsaber.

“Okay, Master. I’m going to cut away the one around your wrists first. I’ll take it slow, but do try to hold still—”

“No, what are you doing?! You’re hurting us—!!” Obi-Wan was screaming and thrashing. Honest to goodness screaming because his mouth was no longer obstructed. Can a creature without a brain, without a nervous system of any kind, feel pain? Of course it can—life will seek to preserve itself when threatened. Honest to goodness thrashing because all six stamens had recoiled and retracted when one had felt the burn of a plasma blade…

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open. The a’moryhn’s pain had blown the haze from his mind with the brutality of a gale-force wind, and he was aware of his surroundings once more: He was inside the flower.

Strangely, so was Anakin. Crouched beside him.

And it _was_ definitely the real Anakin Skywalker because this Anakin was, at this very moment, engaged in his customary inner struggle with his own contradictory impulses. On the one hand, he was anxious and worried over Obi-Wan’s well-being. On the other, he was jealous of Obi-Wan’s unique experience. And on the third—wait, Humans only have two hands, not six, and even Anakin, who had lost one of his, only ever had two at a time and…oh _stars_ , what had the a’moryhn _done_ to him?!?!—he was quivering, downright quivering, with erotic tension.

“Master…” Anakin whispered. His eyes were hugely dilated, blue iris almost completely swallowed by dark pupil. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his forehead. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. From that nervous reflex it was clear that he was reaching some sort of decision.

“Master,” Anakin repeated, hot-breathed. “Please let me. Please. I know what I want, and I want this.”

“Now, hold on just a minute— Anakin—”

“I want _you_.”

Too late. Anakin had opened himself wide to the Force, and the a’moryhn’s alien consciousness, such as it was, washed through him like starlight through a transparisteel starport. He was one with the flower and shared its purpose…and that purpose was still pleasure. Six wise, writhing stamens were already slipping underneath his belt, sliding between his tunics and into his pants, divesting him of his Jedi uniform, as his mouth descended onto Obi-Wan’s.

The fog was descending onto Obi-Wan’s mind again as well. He had an instant where it occurred to him that perhaps he ought to be _more_ troubled by this development, not less, but truth be told, having Anakin—the _real_ Anakin—on top of him made him feel safe, and feeling safe with the being he trusted above all others in the whole galaxy felt so, so good.

He wasn’t alone anymore. No. They were together. They would share this experience _together_.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to stop worrying and surrendered.

This time, it was different. There was only one Anakin, one Anakin kissing him and twining his limbs around him and pressing an insistent erection against the curve of his thigh. Then there were the six a’moryhn stamens…and they were moving in perfect concert with Anakin. Three were wrapped around their two bodies, holding them securely together as they undulated against each other with increasing desperation. One stroked their faces tenderly as they kissed, painting their cheeks and chins in silver pollen. Another had returned its attentions to Obi-Wan’s rear, poking and prodding with infinite gentleness, stretching the muscle and encouraging it to loosen, pushing inside and caressing all of those soft, moist, secret places that made Obi-Wan tense and tremble and cry out his pleasure into Anakin’s sweet-tasting mouth.

And as for the sixth stamen…? Ah, brave Anakin, who did not wince when it plunged without warning into him, much faster and deeper, and with much less preparation, into the same place Obi-Wan was being explored, lighting up his spine with shocking, electric heat, so unexpected yet so _wonderful_ , so welcomed, so _wanted_ , Anakin, who had never been touched there before—

“Oh Gods, Master, this is…” he panted and came.

 _Everything_.

The endless, thick spurts of Anakin’s semen between them was enough to send Obi-Wan careening headlong into yet another orgasm, straining, straining more as he spilled himself, so long and hard that it actually _hurt_ , and oh, oh, oh, his heart was going to stop, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, blinded by ecstasy, couldn’t hear anything but his own hoarse shouting.

When it ended, it was a mercy, and Obi-Wan lost consciousness.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? What plot? X-D

Anakin snuggled closer to Obi-Wan, enjoying the sensation of soft, springy body hair beneath hard, wiry muscles and the ticklish prickles of beard against his own bare skin. It reminded him of when he used to seek out Obi-Wan in his bed to comfort him after his nightmares.

Except that this wasn’t a nightmare. It was, rather, a dream fulfilled, and Anakin hadn’t even realized until now it was something he had always wanted.

No, not the experience inside of an a’moryhn, or rather, heh heh heh, not _just_ the experience inside of an a’moryhn.

What he’d come to realize was that he wanted Obi-Wan as a lover, that he craved intimacy with him. He’d wanted Obi-Wan to lose his grip on his legendary control for him… _with_ him. And now it had happened.

Mmm, Obi-Wan’s scent was delicious. He smelled like sex. Like satiation.

The a’moryhn felt sated as well, Anakin knew. Its life energies seemed to vibrate with contentment, for it had acted in accordance with its natural purpose. Yoda liked to say that “much to learn, the Jedi have, from such creatures. Understand how simply in the universe as themselves to exist the a’moryhn do.” Anakin typically rolled his eyes at the little troll’s syntactically contorted aphorisms when he thought nobody was looking, but for the first time it occurred to him that maybe Yoda had a point with this particular one.

Anakin ran his fingers with infinite tenderness along the silver slash of pollen painted onto Obi-Wan’s cheek. It didn’t seem to rub off at all and genuinely seemed painted or tattooed on permanently. Of course it wasn’t, though; the pollen would be shed from their skin gradually over a duration of several days.

His touch caused Obi-Wan to stir and mumble something unintelligible. He was starting to wake. Reflexively, Anakin braced himself for Obi-Wan’s inevitable harsh words of disappointment and recrimination.

But when Obi-Wan’s changeable blue eyes opened, focused, and came to rest on Anakin, Obi-Wan did not berate him. His mouth did open, like he was about to speak, and he started to stiffen, making to rise, but then he seemed to notice the a’moryhn’s six stamens still wrapped securely around them, immovable, holding them together in its strange, tangled botanical embrace, and he merely sighed instead and settled back down closer to Anakin.

Obi-Wan was hard again and wet at the tip, Anakin noticed. So, for that matter, was Anakin. Apparently the a’moryhn’s aphrodisiac was still affecting them.

The muscles in Anakin’s groin twitched with involuntary eagerness. He’d never imagined how much he would love being filled by the a’moryhn’s stamen, achieving orgasm while clamped down on it, stretched and sensitive, the pleasure of each and every flutter and contraction intensified a thousand-fold.

A hot, hungry haze descended, clouding rational thought processes. Anakin welcomed it.

Somehow, the a’moryhn seemed to know what Anakin wanted almost before he did. The six stamens lifted and repositioned them chest to chest, Anakin below and Obi-Wan on top, the tip of Obi-Wan’s penis sliding off of Anakin’s belly and tracing down around the tight curve of his scrotum before prodding his perineum. Oh, so sweet— Precome poured out of Anakin in a sudden, single, long spurt, and Anakin cried out, overcome with desperation.

“Master, please! Now, now, _now_! Oooohhh, I can’t…I want…I need…I-I…” He was babbling, begging, demanding.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan murmured, voice husky with strain. Although both their bodies seemed to have developed some small measure of tolerance for the a’moryhn’s potent aphrodisiac, even so Obi-Wan trembled from the effort required to hold himself motionless against the gathering storm of his own arousal. “You are not yet accustomed to this manner of sexual intercourse. I don’t want to hurt you. We’ll take it slow—”

“Argh, no, Master—!” Anakin wailed in frustration. “I can’t stand it. I can’t wait any longer. I want it fast!” He could feel that glossy, wet tip poised against the place where the emptiness, the clawing hunger, gnawed most fiercely at him. It was barely touching. He spread his legs and canted his hips, trying to grind himself onto Obi-Wan’s erection, to force him inside as quickly as possible.

Obi-Wan made a strange, thin, high-pitched sound, like a sob or a whimper, and then he surrendered, thrusting into Anakin, all the way to the hilt in a single, precision-aimed, powerful stroke, just as Anakin had wanted. The air was knocked out Anakin’s lungs in a rush, like he’d taken a kick to the gut, and he probably would have torn outright had it not been for the a’moryhn’s attentiveness earlier. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was pleasure of pain, but whatever it was, he wanted _more_.

“Yessss,” Anakin hissed, resting his legs on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Move, Master, move!”

“Oh Anakin…” Obi-Wan moaned. He pressed his mouth against Anakin’s left leg, lips wet and sloppy, tonguing and sucking on the flesh as he began to thrust.

The rhythm was as hard and fast as Anakin could have wished, each burning slide in and out, in and out, in and out, the most intimate of caresses, each push against his prostate a sweet, deep ache that made his erection throb and leap.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were shut tight, and his expression was scrunched, brow furrowed, and he bit his lip, fingernails digging into Anakin’s waist where he held him, as the pace of his thrusts accelerated even further, adding an occasional, vicious twist to his strokes which made Anakin bleat for more, more, more…

And Obi-Wan obliged him.

Anakin recognized this primal, animal wildness. He’d been like this with Padmé on their wedding night—

***

The a’moryhn plant is a creature without memory. Yet it remembers.

There have been many visitors to whom it has given pleasure in exchange for the possibility of pollination, fond hope for a future generation of vigorous, healthy plants growing in peace toward the sun.

But there has only ever been one other couple.

They were young and bright and beautiful. Secretly in love. Joyful. And they were together in the municipal garden at night because there was nowhere else to consummate the union which had been forbidden them.

The a’moryhn had been young then too, and it did not understand the passion that these transient little creatures felt for each other. It could not, and still cannot, distinguish the one for the other. All of these beings which come to the a’moryhn’s flower are the same, but on that particular occasion there were two of them.

That first couple paid the a’moryhn no mind as they rolled and writhed. The passion they shared was only between them, and they took no notice when the a’moryhn began to cover them in its seed.

Now, there is another couple, and the a’moryhn, seasons older and wiser, knows that their mating, their consummation, is sanctified by the pulse of energy which surrounds and binds all life together. Their congress secures the future, and it knows well enough to guard their pleasure, and to amplify it…but never, never, never to interfere.

Their love is everything.

And all is right in the universe because the a’moryhn plant remembers—

***

Gradually, Anakin became aware of one of the a’moryhn’s stamens moving against them again. While five were still wrapped around their bodies, binding them together when the vigor of their sex would have otherwise caused them to lose their grip on each other, the sixth was worming its way between them, probing and stroking the place of their joining.

And when it twined around the length of Obi-Wan’s erection and joined him inside Anakin on that next surging, inward thrust, Anakin’s orgasm was the most intense he’d ever experienced.

He may have been screaming by that point, it felt so damn wonderful. He wasn’t sure.

Then, moments later, the sensation of Obi-Wan’s warm, abundant semen filling him near to bursting made Anakin climax a second time.

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after bedding the a’moryhn. Some unexpected conversation leads to a most unexpected (but pleasant!) conclusion.

Obi-Wan didn’t pass out this time. Neither did Anakin, for that matter…although perhaps that fortitude was to be expected of The Chosen One.

The a’moryhn’s stamen was still twined around his erection when it slipped out, and Obi-Wan eased it off gently, scrutinizing both himself and the bluish-white vegetal flesh for the slightest trace of blood. To his relief, there was none. Just copious seed of Human and of a’moryhn, mixed together into a viscous, glittery mess.

Obi-Wan stroked the length of one of the stamens absentmindedly. It was limp, motionless, its store of pollen—at least for now—entirely depleted. Most of that pollen, Obi-Wan thought to himself ruefully, was on him and Anakin.

And it seemed that the a’moryhn’s store of aphrodisiac had also been depleted as well because, for the first time since finding himself inside the flower, his thoughts were entirely his own.

He knew he ought to be appalled, horrified, and ashamed of what he had done under the influence of the a’moryhn, but he wasn’t. Instead, he felt only the peace, affection, and satisfaction of long-denied consummation.

He felt only profound, abiding love.

_For Anakin._

“I love you too, Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured, lying prone and vulnerable beneath him, eyes wide and shining. If was as if Anakin were replying to the unvoiced words in Obi-Wan’s mind.

Perhaps he was. Perhaps he always had been.

Obi-Wan kissed him.

***

The petals opened briefly in the morning just before sunrise, allowing them to leave. They found their clothes and their lightsabers heaped in a pile at the base of the a’moryhn plant’s stem.

As they dressed, Anakin explained what had happened while they had been separated, how the Mirialan fitting Barriss’s description had turned out not to be Barriss Offee at all. She was just another war orphan, poor thing. Ah yes, Anakin had had a soft spot for orphans since his mother had returned to the Force. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan was pleased that Anakin had handled the situation so well—and told him so.

Anakin accepted the praise awkwardly, with false humility.

Typical. Some things never changed. As he clipped his lightsaber back onto the utility belt around his waist, Obi-Wan wondered for the ten-millionth time what he was going to do about Anakin’s ego.

“You know what?” Anakin remarked with deceptive casualness, shaking a stray insect out from the folds of his hooded robe.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Well, Master,” Anakin said as he donned the robe, “I hate to admit it, but I guess you were right: It _was_ dangerous to approach the a’moryhn at night. Aren’t you glad I was around to rescue you from your mortal peril?”

Obi-Wan sighed. Of course Anakin was never going to let him live this down. Fortunately, he could give as good as he got when he was so inclined. “Yes, Anakin, I give thanks to the Force every day for delivering you to me as my Padawan learner. There is no being I would rather have by my side”—he paused dramatically—“or impaled on my cock.”

Anakin’s jaw actually dropped. Obi-Wan was surprised how gratified he felt about that.

“In fact,” Obi-wan continued, pretending not to notice how Anakin’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish trapped in a pool of oxygen-depleted water, “I’d like to try it the other way sometime. Might your cock be interested in putting itself, ahem, _up_ for the task?”

Obi-Wan bumped his hip against Anakin’s, as if by accident, and Anakin flushed crimson.

“I-I’d l-like t-that,” he stuttered.

“Good.”

The silence hung heavy in the air. They would have little opportunity and even less privacy for intimate relations going forward. The Council would not approve, and Anakin looked daunted by the logistics of secrecy. Nervous, he scratched the tip of his nose. There was a streak of silvery pollen dabbed onto its tip. Obi-Wan tried not to laugh at how ridiculous it looked…and failed.

“What?” Anakin asked, frowning. He was blushing harder than ever, and he looked even more disconcerted, if that was possible.

Obi-Wan laughed harder. “N-nothing! Don’t mind me!” he gasped out between guffaws.

Anakin’s frown deepened as his doubts about Obi-Wan’s sincerity, and his long-held doubts about his own worth, began to surface. Obi-Wan realized that he wanted to kiss that frown and those doubts away.

So, taking Anakin’s face between his two hands, he did. Anakin seemed to melt against him for a moment, and then he began to return the kiss with such ardor that he stole Obi-Wan’s breath.

When at last their kiss broke, Obi-Wan rested his forehead against Anakin’s and stroked his unruly mop of honey-blond hair. They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes—and saw only love, unclouded by any lingering doubts or the chemical influence of the a’moryhn.

“I wish this didn’t have to end,” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan felt the same. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. “You know, now that you mention it, Anakin, I do believe we have one final duty to discharge on Mirial.”

“Wait, we do?” Anakin blinked, confused. “But Barriss wasn’t—”

Obi-Wan touched the silver streak on his own cheek. “Of course I don’t know for certain, but I would assume that there must be another a’moryhn somewhere in full bloom and in current need of pollination.”

Anakin blinked again…then realization dawned like Tatooine’s twin suns in Anakin’s expression. “Wait, you mean— You want to bed another flower—?! _Now?!_ ”

“Mmm. It seems our trials aren’t over quite yet. Lamentable, yes, I know,” Obi-Wan agreed, deadpan. Inwardly, he was rejoicing at Anakin’s enthusiastic response. He knew he really shouldn’t be taking such personal pleasure in making Anakin happy, but he couldn’t help himself. When push came to shove, as it had in the inside of the a’moryhn, he couldn’t help himself when it came to oh so many things in relation to Anakin—this was, and would have to remain, his most closely-guarded secret.

Anakin said nothing, but the heated look he shot Obi-Wan buried itself right into Obi-Wan’s groin. Obi-Wan was already hardening. _Again_.

“So, uhh, about my cock being interested in fucking you—”

“Now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, mock-strict, “who said anything so vulgar as ‘fucking’? This is about pollination, not ‘fucking.’ It is our solemn duty to the a’moryhn we bedded—and the next generation of a’moryhn plants on Mirial.”

“Riiiight.” Anakin had decided to play along. He was grinning.

“I’m actually serious about our duty to the a’moryhn.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

Of one mind, they began walking. They didn’t know where they were going next, but the Force would guide them and set them on the right path.

Anakin began fiddling with the inner workings of his wrist comlink as they went. Obi-Wan was just about to ask him what he was doing when he announced, “Lemme comm Rex and tell him not to bother with the caf, okay, Master?” Anakin slid his other hand down Obi-Wan’s back to cup and squeeze one of his buttocks suggestively. Obi-Wan startled, but he did not breathe a word of protest.

“After that,” Anakin continued, “we’ll be good to go…and go…and go…and go…”

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun! X-D I hope you enjoyed reading this admittedly silly story as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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